Wow! I can believe this! I remember buying fabric with Mother at Penn Traffic. There was special magic in all those textures, patterns, weaves. And when the clerk would pull the chosen bolt to cut the yardage, I felt as if I was waiting for fireworks: she'd draw those sharp scissors from the ribbon around her waist, cut a short inch into the selvage, and then hold the fabric high while ripping the desired piece, a glorious sound of popped threads making way to eventually become the new dress. My favorite clothes of all time are still the ones Mother and I made.
Wow! I can believe this! I remember buying fabric with Mother at Penn Traffic. There was special magic in all those textures, patterns, weaves. And when the clerk would pull the chosen bolt to cut the yardage, I felt as if I was waiting for fireworks: she'd draw those sharp scissors from the ribbon around her waist, cut a short inch into the selvage, and then hold the fabric high while ripping the desired piece, a glorious sound of popped threads making way to eventually become the new dress. My favorite clothes of all time are still the ones Mother and I made.
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